


Better than Dreams

by Reposhillo



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reposhillo/pseuds/Reposhillo
Summary: For once Jacob is more content to waking up than escaping to his dreams
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	Better than Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to say here except I've fallen hard for these two and their convoluted relationship and decided some fluff would be good for the soul.

It's a combination of different sensations and noises that ever so slowly rouse Jacob from his slumber, his body fully stretched out lying on his stomach and dressed in nothing but his necklace and a crimson dyed sheet clinging to his body. He doesn't let his eyes open just yet, instead letting the sounds around him feed his ears as he puts together what's happening. He can hear the sound of London outside, a cocktail of voices and shuffling, carriages being pulled along the streets. Then of course there's the downstairs of the Alhambra, where people are getting ready to rehearse the play for the day, each getting situated in their proper role.

Which brings him to the last piece of the puzzle of what has risen him from such a pleasant sleep, feeling the bed dip at different intervals and the sound of shuffling. A shadow falls over his face as the the bed dips once more, and the Assassin can't help the lazy grin that stretched across his lips as he feels bare, limber fingers run through the back of his hair and down over his neck. He let's out a pleased sigh, but still does not deign to flutter open his eyes. He's far too comfortable, and given how he's here, in a bed far comfier than he's ever had the pleasure of lying upon, warm and still quite sated from the night before, if the slight throbbing in his backside was any indication. Well really, could anyone blame him for that small fear, that invasive worry that everything that had been led up to this point was all but a dream? A fantasy brought upon him in a drunken stupor, when in reality he could passed out in a dingy alley somewhere?

His worries are swiftly chased away however, as those fingers rake through his hair firmer than before, and he can feel the shift and heat emanating from the owner of the body that is suddenly closer to him, speaking in his ear in that unforgettable voice. "My dear," He hears, and the endearment still causes a slight flutter in his stomach, "As much as I'd love to keep you like this, I'd much prefer if you would wake and join me for breakfast instead." A kiss to his left exposed shoulder blade is then pressed to him, and the Rook leader gives a hum as if he is considering it. 

"Breakfast? After a night like last? One may think you're trying to spoil me." The roughness of his own voice is a surprise to his ears, but still he does not open his eyes. When Jacob does not hear an immediate reply, but instead feels the hand that had been petting his hair move down to his shoulders suspicion begins to surface, and finally the Assassin cracks one eye open, tilting his head ever so slightly so that he can look up at his lover. "Are you counting the freckles on my back again?"

Maxwell grins at him from where Jacob can see him, green eyes glittering with fondness as he nods, not ashamed at being caught. "Of course. Now a good morning to you, my sleeping beauty."

"Yeah, yeah..." Jacob chuckles, and slides his arms down from where they had been hugging the pillow his face was nestled upon, dragging them under him so he could lift himself up and rest his weight on his elbows. The motion causes the world to blur for a moment, before everything settles back in place and a stifled yawn escapes him. Despite being woken up a bit earlier than he's used to, Jacob feels rather refreshed and content. 

He returns his attention back towards Maxwell, taking note of the white button up shirt he was now sporting, only partially buttoned up, and the slim fitting dark colored trousers he wore. The man had been in the process of dressing himself for the day ahead before deciding to pester Jacob until he awoke, apparently to offer breakfast.

"Am I expected to dress as well or can I join you like this?" He quips cheekily, shifting a bit to signal his very clear nudity and grinning as he watches Maxwell chuckle at his snark before the man leans down, Jacob meeting him half way as he twists his body and leans up to catch those lips with his own. It's brief, something chaste that doesn't quite suit the kinds of men they both were, but it's nice nonetheless. Something normal and simplistic in their hectic lives, domestic almost as if they could be nothing but simple lovers getting ready for the day ahead. There's nothing that's quite that simple about their admitably odd relationship, one that could turn top side at any moment, but Jacob would prefer not to think of that possibility. 

Instead he can only grin as they pull away, watching as something mischievous dances along in Maxwell's eyes, and before he can make a comment on it his lover beats him to it.

"You may if you'd like, although I can't promise I wouldn't be having you for breakfast instead." The line is delivered so smoothly that it takes Jacob aback for a moment, mouth falling open just a bit as Maxwell chuckles at his expense. The younger man snaps his mouth close, and the moment his fingers curl into the pillow below him his lover leaps from the bed, already set about to step outside their room to order Lewis to bring their breakfast up, just barely missing the pillow that Jacob hurls at him.

"Swarmy bastard!" Jacob calls after him, before he finally sits up, the sheet pooling around his waist. A smile seems to be perpetually stretched across his face, hearing his lover shout orders for breakfast and tea. If this is how he could spend most mornings, perhaps he didn't need wistful fantasies and dreams any longer.

Now to think of a way to get back at Maxwell for teasing him...


End file.
